Past Imperfect
by sonneta
Summary: Peter's debts catch up with him.
1. Chapter 1

Walter was driving Peter crazy. Which was bad, because at least one of them needed to be sane. The case they had worked on earlier that day had been rough, with Walter frustrated at his inability to discover who or what was perpetrating the crimes. All night, he had been short of temper, snapping at Peter about every last little thing. Sometimes, Peter reflected, it really was like taking care of a toddler - no, worse, since Walter was capable of far more damage.

Finally, Peter had reached his Walter tolerance limit. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I'm going out for a walk," he said. Walter began to protest, but Peter cut him off. "Just a walk, I'll be back soon." Peter pulled on his pea coat and went out of the house, not really caring when the door slammed behind him. He tried to focus on his breathing, in and out. The cold air entered his lungs with a sting.

A perfectly ordinary car was parked across the street. A man known to his acquaintances as "Snake" sat in that car. He smiled when he saw Peter come out of the house - his reward had just been assured.

Peter walked down the street, trying to clear his mind and body of anger. Several blocks down, he began to get the feeling of being followed. He would have liked to dismiss the feeling as paranoia, but experience told him his instincts were dead-on. He turned on his heel and headed back towards the house.

Peter walked as quickly as he could. Suddenly, a large man in a parka blocked Peter's path. Peter stopped on the sidewalk, his brain scrambling to find a way to escape.

"Can I help you?" Peter asked.

"Yeah, Peter Bishop. I think you can help me quite a bit," said the large man. The man grinned in a way that scared Peter more than a little.

"Well, the thing is...I'm not really in a helpful mood tonight," Peter said.

Immediately, Peter swung his right hand up towards the other man's face. The man blocked the move with his left hand, and delivered a blow to Peter's throat with his right hand. Peter then elbowed the man in the ribs. The man doubled over in pain, and Peter ran to his right to try to escape around the man. But the man tackled Peter from the side, sending them both to the street. The man pinned Peter, delivering a return rib punch that left Peter breathless. The man followed with a blow to the head that sent Peter into unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

After Peter left, Walter began to wander the house. He decided to make pancakes - Peter loved pancakes. He took some eggs, butter, and a gallon of milk from the fridge. He then grabbed flour, and sugar, and - what else was in pancakes, again? Unfortunately, it proved to be a bit much to carry, and the eggs dropped out of the pile onto the floor. Walter put down the other items, accidentally knocking over the sack of flour onto the floor.

"Oh, dear," he said, wondering how exactly he was going to explain this one when Peter got back.

Some time later, when the kitchen was in a complete disarray, and Walter had given up on making his pancakes, it occurred to Walter to wonder when Peter was coming back.

"Just a walk. He was just going for a walk," Walter said to himself. "He's only been gone-" Walter looked at the clock, but couldn't remember what time Peter had left.

"No need to panic. Peter will be home soon," Walter said to soothe himself. He settled down on the couch in the living room, determined to catch Peter coming in the door.

* * *

When Peter regained consciousness, he was in a dimly-lit, cold room with a very high ceiling. He figured it must be a warehouse of some sort. He was seated - slumped, really - in a chair with his hands cuffed behind his back. His ribs ached and he felt like his brain was trying to pulse its way out of his head. They had taken his pea coat, and he was freezing.

He sat up a little, which sent a wave of pain down his right side. He tested the handcuffs, but they were on too tight to allow much leeway. Peter Bishop had been in some tight spots before. Which was how he knew that this time, he was in deep trouble.

His suspicions were confirmed when Big Eddie walked into the light, a sneer on his face. "Peter Bishop. I thought I told you never to come back to Boston?"

Peter grinned sardonically. "What can I say, Eddie? I missed the pleasure of your company."

* * *

At 3:30 a.m., Walter decided to call Peter to see where he was. He remembered that he just needed to push one button on the phone to ring Peter - but which one? Walter decided to try the number 1, pressing it down and holding it.

Peter's phone rang. And rang. When Walter got Peter's voice mail, he left a rambling message and then hung up.

Something was wrong, he knew it. Even if Peter was angry with him, he wouldn't be gone for so long - and then refuse to answer a phone call. He needed to call someone. Olivia, she would know what to do. Walter thought that there might be just one number he needed to press, like with Peter. Which was Olivia's? Zero - O for Olivia? Walter decided to try it, but he only got the operator. He told her he needed to call Olivia Dunham, but the operator informed him there was no listing under that name.

Frustrated, Walter hung up and tried again. He would try the number 2 - surely that connected with someone.

* * *

Peter's reward for his smart mouth was a hard slap to his face. _Same old Big Eddie_, Peter thought. _When you got on his bad side, he had no patience for you._

"Look, I gave you a chance, kid. I probably shouldn't give you another, but what can I say, I'm a softie," Big Eddie said.

Peter leaned over and spit blood out of his mouth. "Yeah, sure. You're a regular teddy bear," he said.

Big Eddie kicked over Peter's chair. Peter landed hard on his right side, and was unable to repress a groan of pain.

"You have got some mouth," Big Eddie said. "You better shut up before I decide you're not worth the trouble."

Peter looked up, silent.

"That's more like it."

* * *

Olivia woke up to the sound of her cell phone ringing. _What's the case this time, Broyles?_ She thought.

"Dunham?" She answered the phone.

"Olivia? This is Walter Bishop."

"Walter? It's the middle of the night, why are you calling?" Olivia asked, already dreading the possibilities.

"It's Peter. He went for a walk... a while ago, and he never came back," Walter said.

Olivia got out of bed, her mind whirring with possibilities. "Okay. Walter, I want you to stay there in case Peter comes back or calls the house. Can you do that?"

"Yes, of course," Walter said.

"Good. I'll send Astrid over there, okay? I'll call Broyles and then come over to start looking in your neighborhood," Olivia said, tugging some pants on as she talked.

"Thank you, dear," Walter said. There was a moment of silence on his end, and then, "You will find him, won't you?"

Olivia stopped at that. "Yes, Walter. I'll do everything I can," she promised.

* * *

"I hear you're with the FBI now - Department of Homeland Security," Big Eddie said, tipping Peter's chair upright. "I'm surprised they'd take someone like you."

Peter wondered for a moment if it was worth denying this - but figured it would probably only rate him another injury. "I'm just a consultant - mostly a babysitter, really," he said, half-truthfully.

Big Eddie shrugged. "Well, if that's true, then it's too bad - for you. You see, Bishop, information has its own market. And its own black market." He came closer, looking Peter straight in the eye. "If you tell me the things I want to know, maybe you can get out of here alive."

Peter blinked before asking the obvious question. "And if I don't?"

"Well, I can only give a person so many chances. Let's just say they will have to use dental records to identify your body - if they ever find it. Look, I'll give you some time to consider it," Big Eddie smiled evilly, "and some incentives to see it my way. If you don't want to tell me, well... you and I will have a little fun."


	3. Chapter 3

Olivia sped towards the Bishop house with her sirens blaring. She had called Astrid on her way out to the car. Olivia had apologized for waking the younger agent, but Astrid had understood when Olivia explained the situation. Olivia mentally hugged Astrid for being willing to leave a warm bed in the middle of the night in order to take care of an insane scientist.

After calling Astrid, she had made the call to Broyles. He had expressed his own concern, and had promised to have agents make calls to the local hospitals and police departments. Olivia had her doubts that Peter was actually at the hospital. In fact, the hospital would most likely be highly preferable to wherever he was now, even to Peter himself. She got the impression that Peter didn't like hospitals, but surely that would be better than-

No, she couldn't let herself think about any of the more terrifying possibilities. He was fine. They would find him, and he would be fine.

* * *

Big Eddie was never one to pull his punches. After Peter's initial refusal to tell him anything, Big Eddie had kicked Peter in the shoulder, sending Peter to the ground again. When his head banged against the floor, Peter saw black spots. He wondered if he would lose consciousness again, but he had unfortunately stayed aware as Big Eddie kicked him again, this time in the kidneys.

Then, Big Eddie had stormed off, threatening to "find tools". Peter realized that whatever information he was thought to have must be pretty valuable to Big Eddie. Big Eddie was not a man to keep his enemies alive unless they had something worth his while to offer them. Big Eddie wouldn't kill him just yet, because the information that a Department of Homeland Security agent would have could potentially net Eddie big bucks.

That meant that all Peter had to do was survive until Olivia and the other agents figured out where he was. He had to keep Big Eddie thinking that he had something to offer without pissing him off too much - because Peter knew that there would eventually be a point where even Big Secret Government Information wouldn't be enough for Big Eddie to keep him alive. Peter hoped he could pull it off, and more than that, he hoped with all his might that Olivia and the others would find him quickly.

* * *

Olivia searched the neighborhood as well as she could in the dark. She thought about knocking on doors, but figured that would have to wait until morning.

She finally realized that she would have to wait until the sun came up, so that she could see into the corners and nooks and, well, the neighborhood itself. Meanwhile, she decided to go over to the Bishops' house and see how Walter and Astrid were fairing.

Astrid answered the door, welcoming her in with a concerned glance. "Anything?" She asked.

Olivia shook her head. "It's too dark to really get much evidence. I'll go back out in a couple of hours - the sun's supposed to be up about 6:30."

The two women wandered into the living room, where Walter was pacing.

"Walter? Olivia's here," Astrid said.

"What? Oh, Olivia," Walter said, coming over to her. He placed his hands on her arms. "Did you find him yet?"

"Not yet, Walter," Olivia said. "But we're doing what we can. We-" Olivia was cut off by her phone ringing. She held up a finger and opened the phone.

"Dunham?" Said Olivia.

"It's Broyles. The hospitals have a couple of John Does, but no one that matches Peter's description. But, the Boston Police Department got a call that may have a lead for us."

"Okay, what is it?" Olivia asked.

"A call came in from a house a few blocks down from where the Bishops live. The woman on the phone said there was some fighting outside her house. When the police went to check it out, there was no one there."

"What's the address?" Olivia said.


	4. Chapter 4

Olivia rang the buzzer again at the home of Agnes Finch. She knew it was early, but she needed this information. Peter was counting on it.

After the third or fourth buzz, Olivia finally heard footsteps coming towards the door. Then, an old lady in a housecoat opened the door a crack.

Olivia flashed her badge. "Mrs. Finch? Olivia Dunham. I'm with the FBI."

Agnes peered at Olivia's badge, unlatching the door to let her in. "FBI? What's this about, then?" Agnes asked, waving Olivia into a living room to sit on a chair.

"It's about the call you made to the police earlier tonight," Olivia said. "Can you tell me more about the fight you saw?"

Agnes nodded. "Yes, two men were fighting practically just outside my window. I don't sleep so well when it's this cold outside - these old bones give me trouble - so I was just sitting here drinking a cup of tea when I heard them."

"Were you able to see either of the men? Any distinguishing features?" Olivia asked.

"It's awfully dark out there, I couldn't see much. There were two of them - one was bigger, and he had on a big old overcoat," Agnes said. She paused, thinking for a moment. "Just a minute, you wait right here."

Olivia wondered what Agnes was doing. The older woman returned with a pad of paper.

"The big man - he was driving a car I didn't recognize. I took down the license plate, just in case, you know," Agnes said. She handed the pad to Olivia.

Olivia took down the numbers in her own notebook. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Finch. This will really help."

Agnes smiled proudly. "The neighbors think I'm nosy, you know. But I knew someday it would come in handy."

* * *

_The death of the thousand cuts_, Peter thought. When Big Eddie had returned, he had brought knives and some implements Peter didn't want to think about to hard with him. Eddie had opened Peter's shirt, making sometimes smaller, sometimes deeper cuts here and there.

"What do you know about the Pedro Montabon case?" Eddie had asked. Of course Peter knew nothing, but Big Eddie didn't care. There had been a deep cut that time.

This repeated itself with other cases, other names. Peter was somewhat smug that Eddie hadn't yet brought up a Fringe case - at least, not any Fringe case he had ever heard of. Eddie may have his sources, but even they had their limits.

"Bishop, you bore me," Big Eddie said. He stabbed the knife into Peter's side, making Peter cry out with pain. "And you know I can't stand being bored."

* * *

Sometime just after sunrise, Olivia and some other agents were outside the home of the man known as "Snake," or more formally, Rodrick Tanger. The agency databases had quickly recovered the man's address, but that had turned out to be a former residence. Luckily, the new occupant had talked pretty quickly when faced with an angry FBI agent, and they had been assured that this new address was Tanger's new place of residence.

"Rodrick Tanger? FBI!" Oliva called. When there was no answer, she kicked in the door.

Oliva searched the small living room and kitchenette. Then, she heard a call from the back of the house. She ran back to a back bedroom, where agents had Tanger pinned and handcuffed.

"Rodrick Tanger, we've got you on the kidnapping of a federal agent," Olivia said. "In fact, the agent you kidnapped was my partner. So, you can tell us where you took him or -" she turned to look at the other agents, then back to Tanger - "you can ride alone with me all the way back to headquarters."

* * *

Peter knew he was coming to the end of Big Eddie's patience. Eddie was getting more and more violent as his temper ran out. Maybe Olivia wouldn't get there in time - maybe this was the end.

"I have just about had it with you, Bishop," Big Eddie said, delivering a blow to Peter's right kneecap. "Are you going to tell me something, so I can give you an easy death, or are you going to make it hard on yourself?"

Peter couldn't stop himself from answering this one. "Eddie, come on, you wound me. I'm through with taking the easy way out."

Big Eddie sneered, picking up another knife. "Then you really have changed," he said.

"Eddie Callahan! FBI, drop your weapon!" Came the sweetest shout Peter had ever heard. Olivia and the cavalry had finally arrived. But Eddie was too enraged at this point, and he brought the knife in an arc towards Peter's chest.

Then, there was the bang of Olivia's gun, and Big Eddie lay at Peter's feet. Olivia ran towards Peter. She scooted Big Eddie's body out of her way with a foot.

"Hey. About time -" but Peter couldn't finish his sentence. Eddie's knife had ended up in his lower left chest, and his breathing was suffering.

"Shhh, you're gonna be okay," Olivia said. She crossed in back of him. "Get the EMTs in here now," she called into her radio. Then, she uncuffed his hands.

Peter couldn't do much more than attempt a nod. Olivia's voice asking him to stay with her was the last thing he heard before he finally slipped into unconsciousness.


	5. Chapter 5

Olivia had been scared nearly to death when Peter finally passed out. She couldn't lose him - she had just found him.

The EMTs had pushed her out of the way, speaking in their language that she could never fully comprehend. They strapped Peter to a gurney, and she walked behind them as they wheeled him out to the ambulance.

Before she got in, she remembered Astrid and Walter. She looked to Broyles. "Astrid, Walter-" she said.

Broyles nodded. "I'll give Agent Farnsworth a call. They can meet you at-"

"Boston General," said one of the EMTs.

"They can meet you there," Broyles said.

"Thank you, sir," Olivia smiled tightly at him, getting into the back of the ambulance.

* * *

Some hours later, Olivia found herself in a chair in one of the waiting rooms at Boston General without really knowing how long she'd been there.

"Here," Astrid said, handing Olivia a cup of coffee.

"Thanks, Astrid," Olivia said. "How's Walter?"

Astrid looked over to where Walter was sitting, staring at the blank television. "I think he'll be okay once he gets to see that Peter's okay. For now, it's rough on him."

Olivia nodded. She blew on her coffee, wishing that someone would come tell them something. Even showing the doctors and nurses her FBI credentials could only get her so far.

"Peter Bishop's family?" The nurse called.

Olivia and Walter stood, walking with Astrid to the nurse. "That's us," Olivia said. "Or, well, him, but..."

The nurse nodded. "I know, you already told me. You're with the FBI, and he's very important. Well, come back with me, the doctor would like to speak with you."

The nurse lead them through a maze of hallways until they reached one labelled Dr. Merchant. She waved the others in, closing the door as she left.

Dr. Merchant motioned for them to take the chairs in front of his desk. "Ah, Peter Bishop's family. Have a seat, please."

Once they were seated, Walter got straight to the point. "How's my son? How's Peter?"

The doctor cleared his throat. "We're cautiously optimistic."

Walter, Olivia, and Astrid all broke into grins. Olivia felt like she had been holding her breath for a long time, and had just started breathing again.

"He's been through a lot, you understand. His body experienced quite a bit of trauma. We had to repair a lung, and he was very lucky not to lose a kidney. He had massive blood loss and numerous broken bones, including broken ribs. We'll be taking him up soon for surgery on his right knee," the doctor explained.

"Can we see him?" Olivia asked.

The doctor nodded. "Just for a moment. Like I said, his knee surgery is scheduled to begin soon," he said.

The doctor stood up, leading them out of his office and over to the recovery room where Peter was.

Peter looked pale, but Olivia was happy to see him alive. Walter wandered over to the chair next to Peter's bed, Astrid sticking close by.

Walter took his son's hand and raised it to his lips, kissing it gently. "Get well soon, son," he whispered, tears falling down his face. Astrid stroked Walter's shoulder, leaning down to speak to him softly.

"It'll be okay, Walter. Peter's going to be okay, now," Astrid said.

Olivia bit her lip as she shed a few of her own tears. "Of course he will," she said in a fierce whisper.

* * *

Peter regained consciousness later that evening, with Walter, Astrid, and Olivia all looking down on him and smiling. After that, he was asleep most of the time for several days because of the morphine he was on for pain.

Each time he woke up, it seemed like a different member of his little family was there. Walter would be there, arguing with the nurse over what drugs Peter should be given. Astrid would be there, reading a book in a soft tone like the one his mother used to use to help him go to sleep. Olivia would be there, holding his hand and stroking his face gently.

Finally, the time came when Peter was more awake then asleep. Soon afterwards came the day Peter was ready to bust himself out of the hospital - only he found he was weaker than he had expected.

"Son, you suffered quite a bit of trauma," Walter said. "You will need to remain in the hospital until you regain your strength."

Peter blew out a breath, frustrated. Of course this was the time when his father would start making sense.

About a week of pretty intense physical therapy later, Peter was finally cleared to go home. Olivia, Astrid, and Walter all came to his hospital room to hear the doctor dismiss Peter with instructions to "take it easy", and an advisory to the others that someone should stay with him for a while.

When Olivia looked in Peter's eyes, she knew two things: first, that she would not be able to resist helping him; and, second, that there was no way that he could be home alone with Walter. In fact, she thought Peter should probably be absent from Walter while he recovered - not that Walter would ever intentionally set Peter's recovery back, but she knew that the elder Bishop could be rather destructive on the best of days.

So it was that Peter ended up coming home with Olivia, with Astrid (bless her) agreeing to stay with Walter, with some other agents on speed-dial for backup in case of an emergency.

* * *

Olivia pulled up in front of her building. "Stay there, I'll come around," she said to Peter.

Peter, in the passenger seat, almost resented that remark. However, he was awfully tired. As pitiful as he knew it was, what with it only being - 10 in the morning? - he mostly wanted to get up to Olivia's apartment and take a nap.

Olivia opened the passenger door and helped Peter out of the car. She shut the door behind them, placing Peter's arms across her shoulders. "Lean on me as much as you need to, okay?"

When Peter shot her an unsure glance, she tilted her head. "I'm an FBI agent, I can take it."

Together, they somehow got up the stairs into the building and down the hall to the elevator, then back down another hall and into Olivia's apartment.

"Lucky for you, Rachel and Ella moved out a couple of weeks back," Olivia said. "Here, this will be your room." She turned on the lights in a sparse bedroom. "Make yourself comfortable, I'll get you some water."

Peter flopped onto the bed, unsure if he had the energy to do much more of anything. He unbuttoned his outer shirt with shaky hands, dropping it onto the floor. He thought of his shoes, and of the clean sheets on the bed, but decided he just really did not have the strength for that.

He heard a light knock on the door, and grunted something that could have passed for "Come in." Olivia entered, placing a glass of water on the nightstand. Then, she sat down at the bottom of the bed, unlacing Peter's shoes and setting them on the floor. She helped him sit up against the wall behind the bed, passing him the water and some prescription pain pills.

Then, Olivia stroked Peter's cheek before kissing it gently. She started walking out of the room.

"Hey, Olivia-" Peter said, and she turned back towards him. "Thanks. For coming for me, and for taking care of me."

She smiled. "Always."

* * *

The next day, Olivia came in to Peter's room with some fresh bandages and ointment. Peter closed the book he had been reading and looked at her.

"Time for a bandage change," she said.

She helped him scoot forward and shrug out of his undershirt. She just managed to hold in a gasp at the sight of his chest - besides the bandages, his whole right side was covered in deep purple and yellow bruises. She helped him sit back again, and started peeling bandages off.

After working for a while, she couldn't hold it in anymore. He might not answer her, but she had to ask.

"Why didn't you just let the FBI pay him?"

"Hmmm?" Peter asked, raising his eyebrows in confusion.

"I told you - the FBI would have paid off your debts. Why didn't you let them?"

Peter closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "You really think it was just about the money?" He asked.

"Well, you never said it wasn't," Olivia said.

"Olivia, Big Eddie isn't - wasn't exactly the honorable type. He started charging interest from the moment you started owing him, and his interest wasn't payable in cash," Peter said.

"So, what did he want, if not the money?" Olivia asked.

Well, back then, he wanted me to ... do jobs for him," Peter said. "Dirty jobs. Take care of other people who had defaulted on their loans. Take care of people who had gotten on his bad side - and their whole families. That sort of thing.

Olivia asked, "And what did he want now? I mean, I'm assuming he didn't kidnap you so you could... do jobs for him."

"He knew - somehow, don't ask me how, he knew - I was with the FBI. He wanted information," Peter said. "Information on cases I'd never even heard of."

Olivia bit her lip. "How did he even know that?" She asked.

"He's got quite the network of informants," Peter said. "For all I know, he tortured some poor bastard until that guy told him about me."

Olivia took a deep breath and placed a hand on Peter's good knee. "I'm sorry," she said. "I should have known it was more than just the money."

Peter gave her a half-nod. "It's okay. You did save my life - that counts for a lot."

Olivia smiled. "Like I said - anytime."


End file.
